


will you even tell them we happened?

by jemejem



Series: Andreil Week 2k19 [8]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A different break-up fic, Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Andrew sabotages his own relationships and happiness, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, I promise, M/M, Multi, OMG LAST DAY OF ANDREIL WEEk, There is a very fluffy ending, a bigger idiot than Neil, andrew is an idiot, because he's silly, what a rarity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 02:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19803019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemejem/pseuds/jemejem
Summary: Andrew broke up with Neil two months ago. Turns out, Kevin's asked him to room with them, completely unaware of his and Neil's history. It's messy, but can Andrew fix what he's ruined?





	will you even tell them we happened?

**Author's Note:**

> not proofread because im lazy, don't @ me
> 
> this was 7.5k of self-indulgence

“So, you’re like, a law student?” The twink battered his eyelashes and Andrew was ready to shove his head through his laptop screen. “That’s so smart. Are you smart?”

“Smarter than you are, clearly.” He snapped. “I’m a criminology major, and I’m trying to work on my thesis, so I’d appreciate if you fucked off.”

The guy wasn’t dumb enough to misread that, mouth gaping like a landed fish and bright blue eyes quivering. He let out a disdained “Hmph!” and collected his Starbucks frapp, sauntering away from Andrew’s study nook. 

He hated the library, but you didn’t even have to go through the library to get to the subterranean level of study rooms, students filtering in and out constantly, a hush of silence over the place. The internet was far better than his cruddy apartment’s, especially since he and Kevin had cut down on expenses since Aaron moved out and they were still looking for someone to rent out their spare room. 

He almost put his headphones back in, just as Nicky sidled up to his table with a wicked grin. 

“So?” Nicky insisted. “Saw you talking to that cutie. What’s up there?”

“Quit sending me people.” Andrew growled. Nicky also wasn’t being subtle in sending him blue-eyed idiots, in an attempt to help Andrew get over his little crush on Neil Josten. 

Little did Nicky know that they’d gotten together for little over two months, when Andrew abruptly broke things off. Despite having all the same mutual friends, they’d successfully avoided one another all summer. No one had known: They all thought Andrew hated Neil’s guts. 

Nicky pouted his bottom lip, looking pathetic. “I just hate seeing you so lonely! You should have some fun. Let a cute guy lighten up your life a little.”

“I’m _fine_.” Andrew insisted, then almost flinched. How many times had Neil said that after Andrew said he wanted to break up? 

“Alright, alright.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I actually came over to ask you about important adult stuff. Do you still need a roommate to afford the rent? I’ll come back from Erik’s if you’re desperate.”

“We’ll find someone.” Andrew waved him off. “If you’re going to hang around, you can get me a coffee.”

Nicky grinned. “Sure thing, favourite cousin.” He ruffled Andrew’s hair upon departure, letting Andrew get back to work. 

Theses, apartments, roommates, binge-drinking and caffeine, crushes and break-ups and broken hearts. Why was college so needlessly complicated?

*

Andrew liked Kevin as a roommate and a friend, seeing as he usually left Andrew alone and understood his different patterns of silence. He only made the off comment about Andrew accompanying him to the gym, and only convinced him when he promised to spot Andrew on weights. He filled the fridge with healthy options that Andrew avoided, and had bought a TV for the place a year ago, so Andrew could put up with him most of the time. 

Sometimes, though. 

Sometimes he did stupid fucking things. Like getting alcohol poisoning. Like inviting his high-school soccer coach to Christmas and then telling him he was his father whilst piss-drunk. Like getting with Jean, Jeremy and Thea all in one night and dealing with the aftermath the next day. 

But his latest escapade was not only a conscious, _sober_ decision, it really, truly jeopardised Andrew’s entire situation. 

He let himself into his place after a long, graveyard shift at the bar. He got paid more and dealt with less people on clean up and close, so he usually took it with stride, but that night/morning had dragged him to all hell. Roland had been giving him bedroom eyes the entire time, but Andrew was _still_ moping over the idiot named Neil Josten, and would have rather shoved a shot glass through his eye than sleep with Roland. 

He threw his coat at the rack by the door and toed off his shoes, throwing his keys onto the kitchen counter and rubbing his eyes. Decaf coffee, shower, then sleep. 

He did not notice the boxes in the living room, or the blankets on the couch. To be fair, they were small and unnoticeable boxes, and Kevin fell asleep to the soccer all the time. 

He laid his head down on the kitchen counter as the coffee brewed, making enough for Kevin to have some when he came back from his early morning run. Andrew knew he’d fallen asleep for a little while when he heard Kevin come back, walking straight to the kitchen and thanking Andrew for the coffee. 

Andrew grunted in acknowledgement, head rolling. He really needed to go to bed. 

“I found us a roommate.” Kevin said, sounding pleased. “Neil’s lease just got let up, and his landlord hated him enough to not let him back. We’ll be able to get better internet again, seeing as Neil’s got a decent job as a kid's soccer coach.”

Andrew’s head snapped up. “Neil?”

Kevin arched an eyebrow. “Yes, Neil. Josten, the angsty, disaster of a red-head that you mildly hate.”

“If I hate him, why the fuck did you invite him to be our roommate?” Andrew growled, panic causing his heart rate to stutter. If Neil knew Andrew was living there, why the fuck did he agree? Unless he was over Andrew, and it’d meant nothing to Neil after all. 

Kevin waved him off. “I know you don’t actually hate him, Andrew. You say that about all our friends.” 

“Andrew?” 

Andrew hated that voice, and when he turned to look, he found he hated the face accompanying it even more.

Neil looked at him with mild shock. He was wearing a t-shirt and boxers, a towel around his shoulders, having got out of the shower. He forced himself to look at Kevin, and mutter “Shower’s all yours.”

“Thanks.” Kevin put his mug in the sink and brushed by him to go to the bedroom. 

Great. Now Andrew was alone with his ex, and the man who’d successfully torn his heart into absolute shreds when barely anyone else could get through his iron-clad exterior. 

“What the fuck?” Neil demanded. “I thought Kevin lived with Aaron!” 

“Why would I move out with Aaron’s girlfriend?” Andrew retorted with disgust. “God, you haven’t smarted up much, have you? When did this all happen?”

“Got kicked out late last night.” Neil said sourly. “Kevin let me sleep on the couch, and I signed the lease contract this morning before our run. Why didn’t he tell me he lived with you? Does he know?”

“Of course not.” Andrew said tiredly, getting up from the counter. “No one does.”

“Why would I think you’d ever admit it.” Neil muttered angrily, going to turn the coffee machine on. “Backtracked on your mistake as soon as you made it.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Andrew snapped. “If you’re going to live here, don’t fucking test me.”

“ _You_ broke up with _me_. You have no right to be pissed!” Neil snapped. “Oh, sorry, was I not supposed to mention it?”

Andrew shook his head, stalking out of the kitchen and slamming his bedroom door shut behind him. 

In the distance, he heard Kevin ask Neil what happened. 

“Just a difference of opinions.” Neil answered. 

Seemed like Andrew wasn’t the only one that regretted his actions. 

*

Neil and Andrew met at the start of Andrew’s third year, and Neil’s second. Andrew had heard all about him from Kevin, who had met up with him regularly at the gym, and Seth and Matt, of whom he’d stayed with for most of his freshman year. The girls, particularly Allison, absolutely doted on his sullied attitude and spitfire mouth, so obviously, Andrew heard it all from Renee. 

Seeing as Andrew was rather reclusive and antisocial, it’d taken a while for them to truly meet. Andrew hadn’t expected the problematic child that the group had unofficially adopted to be so damn fucking _attractive_ , but that just showed Andrew not to make assumptions that he couldn’t ground in fact. 

They fired accusations of hatred for one another all year, but grew closer and closer: When Nicky invited Neil over for Christmas with him, Erik, Aaron, Katelyn, Kevin and Andrew, they showed each other the rawest of edges. 

Drake, Andrew’s fucked up high school ex, had made an unannounced appearance, causing Andrew to shut himself away and panic until Neil lured him out with soothing words. They exchanged secrets and scars and Andrew’s stomach swooped with the sight of the glimmer in Neil’s eye. 

He’d pined after him for a few months. Nothing happened, and he begun to lose hope, until Neil got drunk the night before his analytics exam out of hatred for his shitty professor, and confessed he couldn’t stop thinking about Andrew, that he’d never trusted someone like that before, that he’d never felt safer. 

The next morning Neil found himself fully clothed and hung-over, sleeping in Andrew’s bed. Andrew fixed him his favourite hang-over cure and kissed him over coffee. 

It’d been the best two months of his life. He and Neil just _worked_ together, like two rare puzzle pieces. Then Neil would brush Andrew’s hair out of his eyes and tell him he was gorgeous, and Andrew couldn’t handle it any longer. 

He broke up with him. Neil made him feel too vulnerable and reliant. When he was with Neil he felt exposed and fragile, and when Neil’s soft fingertips had brushed over his cheekbones, he’d wanted to wax lyrical about love and eternity.

Nothing had ever remained permanent in Andrew’s life before, and he’d never been loved or been capable of expressing love like that. So, before Neil could break his heart, he broke Neil’s, and promptly, his own. 

It was better that way. It had to be. 

*

Andrew thudded his head down onto his desk, the last one remaining in the lecture hall. It’d been just a small tutoring session with a dozen other students and his favourite lecturer, Dr Betsy Dobson. She was the logical presence in his life, and he’d hung onto her since his freshman year. Considering she had a PhD in psychology and criminality in youth, it was reasonable that she just seemed to understand him. 

“What is it?” She asked, leaning against the front of her desk. “Not that you’re beyond melodramatics: I thought everything was relatively okay, Andrew. It’s only a month into the new school year.”

“I know.” Andrew groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Kevin moved Neil into our apartment.”

Bee frowned, drawing up a chair. “You’re still crushing on him? I thought that Nicky was helping you move past him.”

“It’s worse than that.” Andrew put his chin into one hand, speaking with the other. “We dated. He was actually into me, after all that time. But I broke up with him before the summer, and we haven’t seen each other since, and now he’s living in my apartment. Isn’t that just soap-opera level bullshit, Bee?”

“Why did you break up with him?” Bee huffed out a laugh, understanding how Andrew’s life was like a soap-opera in more than one way. Finding out he had a twin at the age of ten? Being into guys after being abused by them? It was like the universe was playing a massive practical joke on him. 

“I wasn’t ready to feel the way I did.” Andrew closed his eyes and tried not to think about Neil lying languidly in his bed, sunlight dripping across his bare skin from the slits in the blinds. “He drew me out of my comfort zone and I hated him for it.”

“That doesn’t sound like a logical reason to break up with someone.” Bee countered. “Falling in love is all about sharing vulnerabilities and building newer, stronger foundations.” 

Andrew shook his head petulantly. “Not with him. It was too much with him.”

“Andrew,” Bee countered, voice growing hushed. “You need to stop sabotaging your own healing and happiness.”

Andrew stood up, collecting his things with rushed urgency. “See you next class,” He bit out, refusing to look her in the eye. 

“Andrew,” Bee tried. “Andrew!”

He ignored her in favour of slamming the amphitheatre’s door shut behind him. 

*

In stoic silence, he ate dinner. He had a late-night shift, from seven until two, and so he was having dinner early so he could squeeze in a nap or some work, whatever he was feeling more up to. 

Neil sat, frothing in his own quiet anger on the beanbag that he’d dragged as far away from Andrew as possible, whilst Kevin had rolled his eyes and sat in the middle. He still thought that they just disliked each other on principle, and if Andrew had it his way, that’d be all he ever thought. 

He finished his ramen and set it on the floor, reaching into his pockets for a cigarette. He and Kevin had always fought about this, but Neil smoked too, so the majority would win in his favour. 

Or so he thought. 

“Is that necessary?” Neil hissed. 

Andrew paused his lighter where it almost bloomed his smoke. He answered Neil with a disinterested grunt. 

“I’ve quit.” He said darkly. Interesting. “The balcony’s right there.”

“Majority wins!” Kevin crowed. 

He glowered at the soccer game playing on the TV. “You’ve already used the majority card on what we’re watching.” But Andrew didn’t light it. Pissing Kevin off was something he took in his stride, but he wasn’t _that_ much of a jackass, and if Neil was truly trying to quit, Andrew wouldn’t tease him about addiction. 

Instead, he stood, hooking his jacket over his shoulder and made for work earlier than usual. Being surrounded by loud drunkards seemed like paradise in comparison to Neil’s frigid silence. Andrew was looking forward to when his lease expired and Andrew kicked him out. 

He polished glasses and ignored orders until Roland cajoled him into properly working, so he huffed and blew his hair out of his eyes in favour of mixing a Shirley Temple and approximately two dozen vodka sodas for a gaggle of giggling girls. Any attention he received was warded off with sharp glares, until familiar faces popped up by the bar. 

“Andrew!” Dan crowed, waving gleefully as her boyfriend crowded her against the bar. Andrew didn’t enjoy either of their company, but he’d appreciated their hospitality, both in harbouring Neil and letting him and his family in so easily after months of cold-shouldering. He gave them two free shots but fished out his lighter to light them on fire. He needed to maintain his reputation somehow. 

Dan snorted and smothered the flame, calling out to the others that’d accompanied them. That meant Allison and Seth, equally bitchy and irritating, and Renee, his indisputable favourite. 

“I heard Neil moved in with you guys!” Matt leaned over the bar to talk in a slightly muted yell, wiggling his eyebrows. “Isn’t that fun?” 

“I’d rather neck myself.” Andrew growled back, shoving a tray onto the bar to ward the man and his friendly mischief away. Apparently _everyone_ knew about his crush on Neil. He began stacking up their tray with drinks until alcohol sloshed all over the cool marble surface and weighed the tray to breaking point. 

He shooed them, but Renee remained. 

“You know I’d never ask, nor tell, a soul about you and Neil,” She hesitated. “But a little birdie told me that you broke up almost two months ago.”

“Allison.” She was Neil’s confidante, a relationship that was just as odd as it was intimidating. “What’s she doing, knowing that?”

“Perhaps the same thing I’m doing?” She arched an eyebrow. “Just giving you a warning. She hates your guts more than he does.”

That hurt more than Andrew let on. Neil hating Andrew—though reasonable, and for the best—was like a sucker-punch into an open wound. A wound Andrew had cut into himself, though he was well past his years of hormonal depression and self-harm. 

Maybe Bee was onto something, though he’d never admit it. 

“Have a good shift, Andrew.” Renee insisted with a warm smile, and slipped off to chaperone her friends. 

He wanted to be in bed, under his covers, watching Brooklyn 99 and eating ice-cream till his tongue went numb. He wanted to take the entirety of last year back, redo everything with Neil and get it right, talking to him about his fears rather than cutting him out. 

Instead, he took another order, made another drink. 

He got no service tips that night. 

*

It was getting cooler as fall crept in gradually. It was a relief: Andrew hated the heat, hated exposed skin and the feeling of sweat clinging to his body like needy hands. He preferred jumpers pulled over his fingers and hot cocoa to soothe insistent chills. Even the gas radiators in the lecture halls gave off an aura of comfort, making his lectures and tutor sessions more tolerable.

The crackle of leaves underfoot and the hint of iciness in the breeze brought Andrew calm. It never snowed in South Carolina, but California never got this cold either. 

He sat on the balcony with a cigarette. He was restless, sleepless, which often happened on nights he didn’t have a shift. Essentially, Tuesdays and Sundays. Like clockwork, his mind refused to relax, or his sleep was easily disturbed by images and memories intertwining until they choked him awake. 

He was alright. It was routine. A cigarette and a decaf coffee and some white noise usually did the trick. 

The balcony’s glass door slid open and Neil stepped out, swathed in a hideous woollen jumper that Allison had knitted for him last Christmas. He had a tear-drop earring from one ear, and a matching crystal stud in his nose. That was all he allowed himself, in terms of modification: He had been trying to heal his relationship with his appearance and his abusive father, who was in prison. Andrew wondered when he’d visited Nathan last. When he’d last visited his mother’s grave. 

Neil’s past was just as tragic as Andrew’s own. Rough edges met rough edges and created something that had made so much sense, until it’d made _too_ much sense. 

Something infernal curled in Andrew’s chest. He shoved it down. 

“I was here first.” He muttered, taking another drag. 

“I know.” Neil said, voice rough with sleep. Andrew remembered when he sounded like that after waking up in Andrew’s bed. He’d been considerably happier. 

“Why’d you quit?”

Neil looked up at the shadowed moon. It was a cloudy night. “It reminded me of my mother, and helped curb my grief.” He then turned to Andrew, with a hollow, unforgiving gaze. “Then it reminded me too much of you.” 

Andrew’s fingers faltered as they made their way to his lips. He maintained neutrality with impossible vigilance, but that _feeling_ kept creeping closer. It seemed as though two months apart hadn’t helped shit. 

“You never even explained why.” Neil cocked his head. “And whilst I’d rather chuck you over the edge, I’d like some closure.”

“Do it.” Andrew said hoarsely. “I’d drag you with me.”

Neil recoiled at having his own words spoken back to him, anger curling his lips into a snarl. “Fuck you, Andrew. I didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

He growled, crushing the cigarette in his hand. “You scared me more than death or heights ever had, and I cut you out, because it made _sense_ to me, then.”

“Does it still make sense, you soulless asshole?” He demanded. “Because I hope it hurts, Andrew. I really do.” 

Andrew stared ahead of him, more comfortable in apathy than expression emotion. He couldn’t explode: That was Neil’s style. Neil lashed out with his pretty tongue and glittering eyes, withering whoever crossed him till they crumbled and gave in. Andrew had adored that about him, his misplaced fearlessness, his satire and sarcasm. 

Now he was on the receiving end. It did not feel good. 

Neil slammed the sliding door shut behind him, shaking the foundations of the building and leaving Andrew alone with his volatile thoughts.

*

Andrew decided he was fine with Neil hating him: It’d make it easier to let go of any attachments that remained. 

Which was why when Neil started behaving with civility, Andrew wanted to bash his own head against the kitchen counter. 

“You still like him, Andrew.” Bee reasoned. 

“You should explain it to him, talk it out.” Renee recommended. 

Did either of them know him at all? Like Andrew was going to admit he ever _liked_ Neil, let alone talk to the man. 

Instead, he brooded. When Neil offered him coffee, he accepted with silence and never gave thanks. When Neil cleaned the kitchen, he turned a blind eye. When Andrew fell asleep to the TV and woke up with the lights off, TV off, and a blanket laid over him, he chucked it off with disgust and went to his room. Andrew knew that wasn’t Kevin: If Kevin got within a metre of him when he was asleep, he jerked awake just to lob something at the man. 

Like, honestly. What the fuck was Neil’s angle? 

A month passed. Then another two weeks. Neil was half-way through his lease, and he had Matt and Seth over: They were playing COD, and Neil was way better than either of them. After he’d won his third game, Andrew joined in, and came in at a close second. 

“I ordered Chinese,” He blurted out. Neil looked at him. “Orange chicken, right?” He nodded. 

Matt wiggled his eyebrows at Andrew again, who rolled his eyes, promptly ignoring the nauseated feeling in his stomach. He could not be pining over Neil again. He _would not_ pine over Neil again.

After the guys had left, Andrew cleaned up take-out containers whilst Neil did a crossword. Kevin came home from his date with Thea and ate left-overs because he was an insatiable giant, sitting at the table with Neil. 

“A nine letter word for speaking with needlessly over-complicated language.” Neil said aloud. 

“Irritating.” Kevin mumbled around a mouthful of rice. “Talkative.”

“Those don’t fit, I’ve got a ‘v’ in square one.”

“Verbosity.” Andrew gave. 

Neil rose an eyebrow, then shrugged. “It works.” He looked up. “Thanks.”

Andrew’s heart did a sickening twist in his chest. “No problem.” He muttered. 

Kevin slumped off to bed and Andrew heard him fall asleep to the sound of soccer games on air. Having cleaned up, Andrew went to make a pot of coffee. 

“Decaf?” Neil asked. Andrew nodded. “I’ll have a mug.”

He didn’t complain. It still irked him, but he kept facing away from Neil, staring stoically at the coffeemaker. He heard Neil shift, standing up from where he sat at the table. He walked closer, coming into the kitchen and leaning on the kitchen counter. 

Right next to him. 

Andrew swore he could feel their arms brushing. 

“What do you want,” He snapped, sounding more effected than he’d have liked. 

“Thanks for dinner.” Neil said, shrugging.

“What do you want? ” Andrew slipped back into old habits, curling into himself to protect against vulnerability. 

“I want the truth.” Neil said. “Truth for truth. Remember?”

Andrew’s jaw twitched with anger. “I remember.”

“Why did you leave, Andrew?” He spoke with a hushed tone, almost irreverent in the way he spoke Andrew’s name. It wasn’t pain: It was sorrow. 

“It meant nothing to me,” He repeated his mantra, the same thing he echoed over and over countless times when it was still raw. 

_Who are you kidding. It’s still raw._

“I am nothing,” Neil agreed. Andrew nodded in confirmation. “And as you always said, you want nothing.”

Andrew shoved him, and followed until they slammed against the wall, just in time for the coffeemaker to ping with completion. Neil grit his jaw at being slammed into a wall, but it was the only sign of irritation. Andrew saw no fear in his eye, not even as Andrew pressed his hand to the base of Neil’s throat.

“What’s your game here, Neil.” He said, ice-cold. “We’re over. It’s been almost three months.”

“Are we?” He demanded. “Because you’ve been miserable, eyes following me around. Don’t even deny it. You broke up with me because you didn’t want to waste your time with meaningless pursuits, and you insist that it was for the best, but you won’t even look me in the eye and tell me the truth.”

“You don’t know me.” He hissed. This close to Neil, he remembered the way he smelled, the way his heartbeat fluttered under Andrew’s fingertips. The trust that flowed freely between them like precious air in a vacuum. 

“I know you better than most. Don’t forget that.” Neil brushed his fingertips over Andrew’s cheek. “You’re hurting, Andrew.”

“I hate you.” He snarled. “I hate you. I will kill you, Neil.”

“You wouldn’t.” He said with his chin bowed, looking up from between his lashes. “You swore that you’d never do something you’d regret.”

“I broke up with you, didn’t I?” He whispered, before he could control his _stupid_ tongue. 

Neil’s eyes widened when he realised what Andrew had said, and Andrew tore himself away like Neil’s skin had scalded him. He turned away, unable to look at the man any longer. The man who’d wormed his way under Andrew’s skin and carved himself a space: Andrew had thrown him out, but the space was there. Andrew felt hollow without him, without the familiar brush of his fingertips over the back of his hand, without Neil’s knowing gaze. 

Andrew wasn’t deserving of someone like Neil. Neil should have someone who doesn’t string him on to satisfy his own needs of validation, someone who doesn’t break up with him when things begin to work, someone who didn’t hurt him like he’d been hurt by so many others before. 

“Andrew,” Neil said. Unreasonably gentle. Stupidly forgiving. Andrew hated him for it. 

“Get out.” Andrew rasped. 

“Andrew—“

“Get _out.”_

Neil nodded and turned to leave. 

Andrew slumped into the nearest chair, putting his head into his hands. He was at the dining table, where Neil had sat not ten minutes prior. His crossword was unfinished. 

1/down: to be trapped or contained, sometimes in a substance

_stuck_

3/across: a person of low intelligence 

_idiot_

7/down: a term to ask for forgiveness, sometimes shared with condolences 

_sorry_

4/across: a fanciful hope, an unattainable fantasy 

_pipedream_

4/down: a service given to someone of need

_help_

*

“Hello, monster.” 

Andrew looked up, mildly irritated that someone had found him here, but not surprised that someone had come out of the blue to insult him. It happened sometimes: something about him just screamed antagonistic. 

Allison Reynolds was the definition of daddy’s girl, except she had _’no one’s bitch’_ tattooed across her collarbone, which was exposed in her tank-top despite it being late fall. 

Andrew sighed. He’d found a new nook in which he’d situated himself, avoiding the apartment yet again. This time it was in a hole-in-the-wall coffeeshop that had free wifi and was nowhere near his friends’ favourite hangout, the Foxhole. He thought he’d be untraceable, but Reynolds had to be stalking him. 

She sat at his table uninvited to glare at him. He didn’t take his headphones off, continuing to write his thesis. He didn’t actually add anything to his wordcount, seeing as he had a prima donna tapping her manicured nails on the table. Two milkshakes were served to the table, and Andrew eyed the pile of whipped cream and oreo dust. She pushed the glass closer, and so he huffed out a frustrated sigh, slamming his laptop shut and ripping off his headphones. 

“All I want is to work without being disturbed. Is that so much to ask?” He took a sip. 

“You’re welcome.” She said, spikily. “Maybe you’d have an apartment to work in if you didn’t go trying to choke people out wherever you went.”

“I’d never hurt him.” Andrew said lowly. “He’s an idiot, but he’s not that bad.”

“So date him.” Andrew rose an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes. “Again, yes, I know you’ve broken up, and I know that you know that I know. Renee told me. I’m telling you to get over yourself and make it up to him.”

“That’s bold.”

“Isn’t it what you want?” She demanded. “When you were growing closer, you’d hang out with us all the time. All of us, as a group. At Eden’s, at the Foxhole. When you were dating—which was kinda obvious, except most of our friends are idiots—you were happy. You were relaxed. What the fuck happened?”

“Didn’t realise you were so attuned to my mood, Reynolds.” He bit out, taking another sip of the milkshake. It actually _was_ good, but Andrew wasn’t going to pay her back. She’d asked for it, sitting her and disturbing him like this. 

“I notice Neil, and you were in Neil’s vicinity for a long time.” She pointed a stiletto nail at him. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but you’re still in love with the little shit. So why don’t you ask if he’s still up for it?” She lowered her voice to a theatrically loud whisper. “Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s been a moping little fuckwit. I’m so sick of it.”

“I’m not in love with him.” Andrew retorted, affronted. “I hate him.”

“Yeah, he hates you too. Anger fuelled attraction really gets people going, doesn’t it? The UST is literally driving me insane.”

“Shut up.” Andrew hissed. “I fucking broke up with him, he’s not going to trust me—“

“You broke up with him out of fear.” She countered, and that shut him up. “Fear that he’d leave and break your fickle heart, monster. You know all about his washed-out childhood, don’t you? He came and went faster than a breeze.” 

“Shut _up_.” 

“Give him stability, and you’ll be surprised how long he’ll stay.” She countered. “Thank me later.” Slapping a twenty onto the table, she took one last sip of her milkshake and threw out a glamorous leg, waltzing out of the place like a giraffe with an extreme superiority complex. 

Andrew hit his head on the table. He hated his life.

*

Okay, yes, Andrew was going to try and fix it. Whether or not it worked was completely up in the air. How Andrew was going to go about it was also up in the air.

Allison was dead-on, which he hated, but it was easier to accept when someone else shoved it in his face. Harder to just deny, like he had all of last year. _I don’t like Neil. I don’t like Neil. I don’t like—Oops I just fucking fell head over heels for the stupid mouthy red-head Neil Josten._

The moment presented itself, tied in a big red ribbon and messily wrapped. Neil was scrolling through messages on his phone over his uneaten lunch when Andrew wondered out, neatly careening right around him and going for the pre-brewed coffee that was probably for Kevin.

“Fuck,” Neil hissed. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.” 

Andrew rose up an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder. Neil hit his head onto the kitchen counter. 

“What.” Andrew allowed. 

Neil glanced at him before biting his lip, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I was meant to go visit—Nathan. Today. My car’s in for servicing and Matt’s truck just got written off by someone else careening into it whilst it was parked, and Allison took Renee out for the day.”

“I’ll take you.” Andrew offered. It’d be fine. It was only a—

“It’s an hour and a half drive.” Neil hedged. “There and back.”

Andrew shrugged, collecting his keys from beside the microwave. “Give me five minutes.” 

Neil looked after him, baffled. 

Andrew showered and dressed, leading Neil out to his dead mother’s tricked out car. This felt familiar. They used to go driving together, in silence, for hours. Whether one needed space or time, driving was their solution. It made Neil feel like he wasn’t letting himself get tied down, and it made Andrew feel somewhat closer to death when he went forty over the limit on the interstate. 

He knew where Neil’s father was being held, seeing as the courthouse that Andrew had accompanied Neil to almost a year ago was about a ten minute drive away from the correctional centre. 

Andrew had to know. “Why on earth are you visiting him?”

Neil curled into a smaller ball, putting his feet onto the seat. Andrew didn’t tell him off. He bit his nails and gazed out the window with a distant glassiness in his eye that Andrew didn’t like. “He wanted to speak to me. Realistically I know—he’s in for life for killing Mom. And I have a restraining order on him on top of that, so there’s no way he’s going to get out. I don’t know. Closure, I guess.”

Neil liked closure. He liked tying up any loose ends before moving on. Andrew nodded stiffly and turned on the radio, but kept it soft. If it was music that Neil liked, he didn’t give Andrew any appreciation. 

They had a late lunch on the way. Neil picked at fries. Andrew didn’t start the car till he’d finished them. 

When they were almost there, Kevin called Neil. 

“Yes, I’m going to see Nathan. I’ll be back in the afternoon I guess. No, I’m with Andrew.” Neil glanced at him. “No, I did not realise Matt lied to me so that I’d spend the day with Andrew. I hate all of you. Tell him he owes me for that.” He hung up, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Goddammit.”

“They’re almost as stupid as you are.” Andrew remarked. 

Unbelievably, Neil’s lips twitched upwards. He smothered the smile the best he could. “Yeah.” 

They arrive fifteen minutes earlier than expected, since Andrew never exactly paid close attention to road laws, but Neil was still a few minutes late. 

“Will you come with me?” Neil whispered as they walked into the visitation centre, knuckles white with how hard he clenched his fists. 

Andrew nodded. How could he have said no?

Having spent a year in juvie for vandalism and arson, he was more aware of the prison environment than he wanted to be, but there was something far more intense in a high-security male prison than the juvenile detention centre he’d stayed in over in California. 

“How the fuck did he get visitation rights?” Andrew muttered. 

“Connections.” Neil was beginning to shake as they followed the warden. 

“You didn’t have to do this.” 

He shook his head. “Yes, I did.”

Andrew took his hands and unwound his fists instinctually, like he would when Neil went into a spiralling panic attack. If Neil was surprised at this intimacy, he was too nervous to say anything scathing about it. 

Andrew was directed to sit in a watch room with the warden as Neil was lead into the interview space. 

Nathan was already there in a comically orange jumpsuit, arms cuffed to the table. He didn’t move at Neil’s entrance, but when Neil sat down, he lifted his head and smiled. 

Andrew hated this man. 

“Nathaniel.” Nathan said. “My son. It’s lovely to see you.”

“What do you want?” Neil stilled his quivering hands by gripping his trousers. “Why did you call me here?” 

“I wanted to see what family I have left before they move me to maximum security.” His smile grew wider. The gold-capped canine glinted in the harsh lighting. 

“You could have asked for Stuart.” Neil said. “Pretty sure you like him more than you like me.” 

“Oh, but he’s not really family anymore, is he? No legal bindings.” Nathan laughed, a singular, cold thing. “Till death do us part, and all that, Nathaniel. Or are you trying to forget what happened to her?”

“Keep her mention out of your mouth.” Neil hissed. “If all you wanted to do was taunt me, I’m leaving.” He moved to stand, so Nathan sat up straighter. 

“They’re moving me to maximum security. You’ll never see me again.”

“Good.” Neil spat. 

“I left the estate to you, Nathaniel.” He tried. “Everything’s under your name.”

“I changed my name to Neil Abram Josten a year ago.” He answered, tone cooler than ice. “Let the state have it. I want nothing to do with it, or you.”

Nathan choked on his own laughter as Neil went to leave. “I’ll always haunt your dreams, junior. I made sure of it, didn’t I?”

Neil slammed his hands onto the table and it shuddered under the force. The anger scrawled across Neil’s face was enough to wipe the smile from his father’s face. “An eye for an eye, father. I was the one who landed you in here, and I know you’ll never be able to forget _that_. Not so long as you rot to death in solitary.” He straightened. “Goodbye, _Nathan.”_

With that, he left. 

Andrew held onto his shoulders and brought Neil against his chest, where he sagged against Andrew, the fight and fiery tongue slipping away from him. He knew the feeling. It was a hollowness like nothing else. 

“I want to see Mom.” He croaked out. 

“Let’s go, then.” He offered, leading Neil out with a hand on the small of his back. His heart raced. 

*

When Neil was calmer, Andrew turned down the radio. “I want to know why Matt thought sending us together to see your father was supposed to be a good way to set us up.”

Neil snorted dryly. “He didn’t know that’s what I was doing. Said I was visiting my uncle.” His head lolled to look at Andrew. “I know. Forever a liar.” 

“Some truths are harder to tell than others.” Andrew offered. 

Mary’s grave was on the outskirts of Columbia. Neil had refused to touch his father’s money, so he’d actually opted for a cremation, seeing as it was the better option and he barely had a grand to his name. 

Her plaque was in the east-most corner of the graveyard. They picked dandelion and daisy weeds on the way, laying them by her name. 

Neil sat in front of her. This wasn’t the first time Andrew had visited her grave with Neil, so he wandered away and left him to find his peace. 

Tilda was here, somewhere. Andrew had never been interested enough to find out where. He smoked under an abandoned tree instead, remote enough that no one glared at him. When Neil was done, he came to Andrew with reddened eyes but tear-less cheeks. Andrew nodded. It was time to head home, the sun well on its way to being set. 

The drive was eerily silent. 

When they arrived home, Neil kicked off his shoes, a habit Andrew sort-of hated but also found endearing. He yawned, covering his mouth, so he guided Neil into his room. It was dark, but he didn’t bother turning on the lights. 

“Andrew,” He tried, eyes fluttering closed as Andrew laid him onto his bed. “We should talk—“

He pinched Neil’s lips closed. Being as exhausted as he was, Neil’s attempts to fight him off were weak and almost adorable. He pouted instead. 

“Tomorrow.” Andrew promised.

Neil looked for any hint of dishonesty in Andrew’s gaze before nodding, satisfied, and turning onto his side. He curled up under Andrew’s blankets, and Andrew was a fucking goner. 

He rubbed his temples and went to get ready for his shift.  
 _Fuck_.

*

Andrew sat on the balcony with a cigarette and waited for Neil to join him: He’d been here all morning, anxiety having kept him awake well beyond his shift. He’d gone through half a pack before he’d felt calmer, watching the sun rise. 

Kevin and Neil both woke, and Andrew heard them jostling around in the apartment. They left for their run, so Andrew got up, got himself a bowl of cereal and coffee, a blanket and another jumper, and resettled on the balcony. The sun warmed his skin and the coffee warmed his stomach.

All he had to do was wait. 

They returned loudly, but it was another ten minutes before Neil came out, having showered and eaten. He sat in the chair next to Andrew and watched him carefully. 

“Well?” Andrew prompted. 

Neil shook his head. “I don’t think it’s my turn to talk, Andrew.”

He sighed. Neil was insufferable. Drawing himself up into a ball, he spoke the words he’d rehearsed all night, drawing knives across his skin to show Neil the wounded person beneath his tough skin. Like Neil didn’t already know. 

_You’re hurting, Andrew._

“I was scared of the way you made me feel.” Andrew admitted, voice barely a murmur. “You made— _make_ — me feel vulnerable, in a way I’d never felt before. I hated it because I didn’t know what to do with it, so I cut you out to sabotage myself. I shouldn’t have.” He looked at Neil. “I’m sorry.” 

Neil swallowed, looking down. 

“We were good.” Andrew gritted out. “And you meant something to me. You _mean_ something to me, Neil.” 

“Only took breaking up and isolating yourself to figure that out.” Neil said sourly. 

“I’m not good at this.” Andrew said frustratedly. “I never had anything permanent in my life and I wanted something—someone— that wouldn’t—leave. But I thought you would. I thought—it’d be easier for me to get over it if I left first.” 

“You hurt me.” Neil whispered. “I trusted you, and I thought you trusted me more than that.”

“I know.” Andrew ducked his head. “I am. Sorry. I’m sorry.” It grated on him to say it, but he meant it. And Neil deserved that much. 

“Okay.” Neil said. He took the coffee mug from Andrew’s unresisting grasp before clambering onto his lounge chair. “Move, I’m freezing.”

Andrew, too star-struck to ask what the fuck Neil thought he was doing, moved over. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, closing his eyes beside Andrew. 

“What are you doing?”

“It’s nice out here.” Neil murmured. “You didn’t sleep last night. Let’s just—rest, for a while.”

Andrew wriggled closer to Neil’s warmth. Eventually, he let himself close his eyes. 

Maybe things would be okay. 

*

_a few months later_

“So you’re telling me that you dated and then broke up? And now you’re together again?”

Neil grinned. Andrew rolled his eyes: His _boyfriend_ was thoroughly sloshed and had come repeatedly close to spilling his beer. Andrew took it from his grasp and put it on the table near them. Neil retaliated by leaning into Andrew’s chest and smothering his hands in pathetic kisses. 

“We weren’t ready.” Neil said, words a little slurred. “Took us a while to figure out it meant something.”

“And none of you dipshits noticed.” Allison said victoriously. “None! Seriously, Nicky, I thought you were more perceptive than that?”

“I knew Andrew was into Neil!” Nicky crowed, swaying against Erik. “Well, I knew Andrew was pining after him. Didn’t think Neil was catchable, to be honest.” He grinned and winked at Andrew. “Minyard-Hemmicks do it the best.”

“If you mean by acting as complete train-wrecks and eventually coming to see what’s in front of their own noses, then sure, honey.” Erik kissed Nicky’s hair, who swatted him away. 

“He’s not wrong.” Katelyn snorted, Aaron giving her a small shove.

No, he really wasn’t. Neil was nuzzling into Andrew’s shoulder, effectively distracting him from anything that was going on. Jeremy, Jean, Thea and Kevin were all there, effectively rendering Kevin into a useless bisexual goo, and Andrew had banked on letting that amuse him for the evening, but Neil wanted to get drunk because he had another analytics paper due tomorrow and loved to procrastinate. 

Andrew _had_ advised him against it, but Neil never really listened to anyone. At least Andrew didn’t have to escort him and Kevin home, seeing as the small gathering was at their place. It did mean he and Renee would have to shuffle all their drunk friends out at the end of the night, though. Andrew wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.

In the meantime, he and Neil had a small bubble, where no one paid them any mind. 

“I know you like me,” Neil whispered into Andrew’s ear. “Really, really like me.”

Andrew glared at him. “How old are we, twelve?”

Neil grinned. “I really like you, too.” He nudged his nose against Andrew’s cheek. “Carry me to bed?”

“Absolutely not,” Andrew retorted, even though he knew Neil would fall asleep on him in half an hour anyway, and he’d end up doing just that. 

“Pass me my beer, asshole.”

“No.”

Neil hummed, kicking his legs happily as he languidly draped his arms across Andrew’s shoulders. “I’ll divorce you if you don’t.”

“Not married, Neil.” 

“Yet.” He said into the crook of Andrew’s shoulder. His heart skittered. 

“Sure,” Andrew said, a little light-headed. “Married. Okay. Are you serious?”

But Neil was already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> im getting better at writing over 1k before getting bored!! yay
> 
> also sappy drunk neil is definitely my fave 
> 
> i told myself id never write another break-up fic and yet here i am, three years later, writing another andreil break-up fic


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